Turning on the River
by Devie
Summary: Boyd gets admission to the Dollhouse club. Set between 1.5 True Believer and 1.6 Man on Street. What happened if there was a place for the handlers to relax while off duty? hmmm...


Just the usual fare really. I don't own Dollhouse or any of the canon characters so please don't sue me.

However all the OC's are mine. BUt you guys can use them if you want to. :-)

I hope you enjoy this little piece of my head, i got the idea from the Eddie Izzard stand up when he goes on and on about the Death Star canteen sketch.

_Dollhouse_: Turning on the River

To many custodial and support staff the room looked like just another cupboard. A grey door in a grey frame surrounded by grey walls next to a fire extinguisher which was, actually, a fetching shade of green the door was ignored daily by the literally hundreds of support personnel that the LA DollHouse employed. No one knew who had started this idea of converting an old storeroom into something more. The handler with the longest tenure, a man called Cohen, had known about it when he arrived but even he didn't know who started the idea. Mr. Dominic would probably know but no one had even dared to attempt broaching the subject with him.

"He'd probably say 'secrets are best kept exactly that', or some other remark" mused Urban one evening. Everyone agreed. It was a small miracle their strict _Head of Security_ (Sophie always made speech marks with her fingers) allowed them this one luxury at all.

But when Boyd Langton walked through that janitorial looking door on the second day following his induction and subliminal connection to Echo he admitted later he did feel like Alice all over again. Only this time the rabbit-hole had mood lighting and a substantial drinks cabinet.

It turns out someone mysterious had established a lounge for Los Angeles handlers to relax in when they weren't on duty.

Whether the likes of Adelle DeWitt, or even Clive Ambrose sanctioned such a luxury was unknown; many theories abounded around the pool and poker table as to who and why but as no one had any leads and no one was prepared to question their employers on such as comfortable oversight - lest it swiftly vanish - the group consensus was what they don't know can't hurt them.

The irony of this course of action was not lost on anyone; and just as they protected their Actives from knowing the full truth (well, them and Topher's chair) they were also protecting their employers – and themselves – to the full extent of their rule breaking.

If they were rule breaking.

No one was sure about the last part.

The style was comfortable, there were toilets in the back so the builder had put real thought into the whole affair, and while the décor did suggest an early nineties colour scheme no one was going to whip out a paint brush or wallpaper to modernize their little den. It was enough that Sophie and Joan Carpenter ran hoovers round the place once a fortnight; anything else really was above and beyond.

The day Boyd was admitted to this enclave of normalcy he was given the standard tour, both similar and different to what he'd been shown the previous day. The "bar" was simply a long cabinet with a few mats on top, although there were two fridges behind it crammed with a wide range of alcoholic and non-alcoholic fare. There were a few sofas, a card table, 2 pool tables (how did they get them in here?) a television with a DVD player and games console and very small hi-fi which also looked like it was approaching twenty years of service.

His guide for the evening was Selena Ramirez, a handler who he'd spoken to in conversation only the following day. Why she'd decided he had merited induction into this brotherhood after only 24 hours was a mystery. He had been meaning to ask her, but hadn't got round to it recently.

Echo's engagements were hardly conducive to a wandering mind.

"So what do you think Boyd?" Selena said, walking behind their bar and pulling out two corona.

"It's incredible that they allow you this" was his reply, taking the beer off her.

"Yeah, we aren't sure how this came to pass" said Selena following a very un-ladylike chug of her bottle.

Boyd was rapidly becoming aware there was more to this place than met the eye.

"Now just a few house rules really: No drinking if you're on duty, any one of us reports in drunk and it's game over for everyone".

Boyd nodded; DeWitt had made things very clear that drinking on duty meant termination, and not only in the employment sense.

"Don't turn the hi-fi volume above the indicated level, that door's soundproofed but not completely. Don't let that man in on the poker games"

She pointed to an A4 photo of Topher Brink above the bar, Boyd grinned.

"And, cardinal rule: what you see here, what you hear here, what you say here, let it stay here. Ok?"

Boyd nodded and took another glug "What happened with him?" he asked pointing at Topher.

Selena smiled sarcastically "Little weasel didn't tell us he could memorize the deck, cleaned out every handler here. I was eating macaroni cheese for the rest of the month, riding the bus to work".

Boyd grinned, showing dazzling white teeth, imagining someone as well groomed as Selena Ramirez riding on the early-bird with the domestics.

Selena shook her head and beckoned "C'mon let me introduce you to the rest of the crowd".


End file.
